


Seeing Stars

by kathkin



Series: OTPprompts [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5081155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A nasty run-in with a bio weapon puts Jamie in hospital. Thoroughly doped up on painkillers, he has something very important to tell the Doctor, and there's no time like the present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this OTPprompt](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/130069390712/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-has-to-undergo).

There was a high-pitched cheeping in the air, like a tiny bird. When he opened his eyes everything was white and smooth, fuzzy and pinkish round the edges.

A chair creaked. “Jamie?” The Doctor’s loomed into view above him, perfect and familiar and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He had a hazy notion they’d been in trouble and he definitely remembered being frightened and in pain, but now he was certain he was safe as houses. The Doctor was there. He was safe now. Everything was wonderful. Well, his mouth was dry and sandy and he felt a touch nauseous, but other than that. “Hullo,” he said, grinning up at the Doctor like a soppy idiot. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” said the Doctor. “How are you feeling?”

“Odd,” said Jamie. “Thirsty.”

“Oh yes, yes.” The Doctor’s face went away. He heard footsteps, a splash of water.

Jamie tried to have a proper look around himself, but it was so hard to stay focused on one thing. He was in a small white room, a bit like the TARDIS, but it wasn’t the TARDIS. The smell was all wrong. There was a box that cheeped beside his bed and an interesting array of clear bags and tubes that to his fascination he found he was part of. Two of the tubes ran straight into his arm. That was probably worrying, having tubes stuck in him, but he couldn’t find the will to care.

The Doctor came back bearing a cup of water. “Here you are?”

“Did somethin’ hit me?” Jamie poked at his stomach and felt bandages.

“Yes, something hit you.” The Doctor proffered the cup, but Jamie was too interested in his bandages to notice. They felt thick and squishy, as if under the clothy surface they were made of jelly. “Do you not remember?”

“It’s a wee bit fuzzy,” Jamie admitted.

“Do you remember the Sraxee?” said the Doctor. “The toxic spores?”

That dredged up a memory. “Oh, aye. The spiky red things.”

“Yes, the spiky red things,” said the Doctor in his most soothing tone.

“They were pretty.” He remembered seeing them scattered across the darkness, like red stars, bobbing and weaving like bees.

“I’m sure they were very pretty, until they were lodged in your abdomen,” said the Doctor. Jamie remembered a sudden shock of searing pain. He screwed his eyes shut, fingers curling against his bandages. “Do drink up, now, there’s a good lad.”

Jamie tried to sit up, but he was all heavy and loose-jointed. He couldn’t have managed it even if the Doctor hadn’t pressed him gently back down. “No no, mind your stitches. Here.” He helped Jamie lift his head just enough to drink. “You were in there for hours having all those spines picked out of your insides,” he said as Jamie sipped his water. “It, ah – well, it wasn’t very nice.”

He had a funny wobble in his voice that Jamie hadn’t heard before, and which filled him with a sudden need to provide reassurance. “Dinnae worry.” He reached for the Doctor’s hand and took several groping tries to find it. “I’m fine. It doesnae hurt.” He patted the back of the Doctor’s hand and smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.

“You’re on an awful lot of painkillers,” the Doctor told him.

“Oh,” said Jamie. “Is that why I’m all –” He lost track of what he was trying to say and gestured clumsily. “Mmmeh?”

“Yes,” said the Doctor, not quite laughing but clearly close. “Yes, that’s why you’re all muzzy. Have some more water.”

Jamie drank more water. It was the best-tasting water he’d ever had. Everything was so soft and nice. He liked his water and his bed and his tubes and his bandages and he liked his funny cheeping and most of all he liked the Doctor. It was like a sun shining in his chest, about to burst out, and he had to say it, he _had_ to.

If he could only remember how to string a sentence together. “I love,” he said, “I love your face.” He did and all. He wanted to touch it, and he did, patting its squishy contours.

The Doctor moved his hand gently away. “Your face is very nice too,” he said, half-laughing.

“No,” said Jamie. “No no no. I love your face. It’s so wonderful.” No, this wasn’t coming out right at all. He mumbled to himself, frustrated.

“Settle down, now.” The Doctor pulled up his blanket, tucking him in.

“No, no,” said Jamie. “I mean it. I love – I love you. I _love_ you.”

“Ah.” The Doctor’s hands stilled.

“God, I – love you so much,” Jamie babbled. “I want to marry ye. Will you marry me?”

“Good gracious,” said the Doctor.

“Say you will.” Jamie pawed at him and managed to get a good hold of his shirt, crinkling the fabric. “Please?”

“I think you ought to at least take me out to dinner first,” said the Doctor, eyes sparkling. “Isn’t that customary?”

“Aye,” said Jamie, relaxing his grip. “Aye, dinner. I can do that.”

“Yes, you can.” The Doctor took Jamie’s hand from his shirt and kissed his knuckles. “You rest, now.” He put Jamie’s hand down upon his chest and patted it.

“Aye,” mumbled Jamie. Sleep was clawing at the edges of his vision. He sighed. “And after that we’ll have dinner and then we’ll get married?”

“Yes, that’s an excellent plan.” The Doctor stroked the back of his hand. “Now hush.”

*

“And since then things have been fairly quiet,” said Zoe. “Which probably means there’ll be another attack soon.”

“Oh, aye.” Jamie was wrestling with a squishy tube of something cream-coloured that they assured him was food. He reckoned it’d be fiddly enough were his hands not refusing to do what he asked them to.

“So enjoy it while it lasts,” she went on. “Anyway, I think that’s everything you missed. You were unconscious for such a long time.

“Aye.” Jamie nodded at the tube. “What _is_ this?”

“Breakfast,” said the Doctor. “Though I think it’s more like lunch time, now.”

“It’s military rations,” said Zoe. “It’s not so bad. I think that one’s meant to taste like vanilla.”

Jamie managed to get the cap off. The tube immediately oozed goo all down his wrist, which he licked up. He tasted alright. “Did I miss breakfast?”

“You were awake around breakfast time, actually,” said the Doctor. “But you didn’t, ah, seem up to eating.”

“Oh yes, you said.” Jamie lifted his arm and inspected his plumbing. She batted his hand away. “Don’t tug on it.” 

Now that the Doctor mentioned it, he did remember waking up. But the memory was hazy, sort of soft, as if it was in low light. “I dinnae really remember.”

“I’m not surprised.” The Doctor patted his arm. “You were high as a kite.”

“Eh?” Something was niggling at him. They’d talked about something, him and the Doctor. Something important.

“Oh, and remind me to introduce you properly to Mcculloch.” Zoe sipped her tea. “We’d never have got you to the transport in one piece without her.”

“Mm-hmm.” Jamie fiddled with his tube. He remembered talking very earnestly, very emotionally. He squinted, trying to bring the memory into focus.

He dropped his tube _smack_ on the blanket. “Oh God.”

“What’s wrong?” said Zoe.

“Oh, God.” Slowly, he took his head in his hands. “Oh, no no no.” He had – but he _couldn’t_ – he must have dreamed it, but he hadn’t dreamed it, he really _had_.

“I think he might have, ah, remembered what we talked about this morning,” said the Doctor, laughing.

“What did you talk about?” Zoe asked.

“Oh _no_ ,” said Jamie. “Oh, God in heaven.”

“What did you _say_?” Now Zoe was laughing at him. They were both laughing at him. His face burned. “Was it that bad?”

“Oh, no,” said the Doctor. “It was sweet, really. He was very affectionate.”

He’d said to the Doctor _I love you_ and the Doctor had – he’d _laughed_ , and now he was going to tell Zoe and Jamie was powerless to stop him. He was too mortified to speak. He wondered if it was possible to actually die of shame. At least he was in a hospital. If his heart stopped from pure embarrassment they might be able to crank it up again.

“Affectionate?” said Zoe.

He’d said to himself he wouldn’t ever tell, that it would have to be a secret, and now he’d gone and told and –

“Yes,” the Doctor was saying. “He’s taking me out to dinner.” He patted Jamie’s knee through the blanket.

“He asked you out to dinner?”

The Doctor rubbed his ear thoughtfully. “Actually, he proposed.”

Zoe let out a gasping laugh. “He did _what_?”

This was it. This was the moment he died of shame. Goodbye, world. He’d had a good run.

The Doctor was smirking and Zoe was practically hopping in her seat in her eagerness to laugh at him. “If _you’re_ getting married, I’m going to be the flower girl,” she announced. “Jamie? Can I –”

“Och, _don’t_ ,” he choked out. All at once she seemed to notice how stricken he was. He supposed his face must be a picture.

There was a sticky pause. “Should I… go?” she said.

“Might be best,” said the Doctor. He collected the open tube from the blanket and stood it upon the table.

And Lord, but once the door slid closed behind her he realised it was only Zoe’s presence that had been keeping him from all-out panic. “Oh God,” he said. “Oh God, oh _God_ I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to say it, it just came out –”

“Oh, Jamie.”

“I wasnae thinking, and I, and I –” He wanted to badly to say he hadn’t meant it, that he’d just been addled, but. But he’d meant it with every fibre of his being and it was clear the Doctor knew that perfectly well. And he’d _laughed_.

“Oh, shush.” The Doctor’s hand was on his shoulder, guiding him back to the padded headboard. “There you are. You’ll tear your sutures if you keep on like that.”

Jamie breathed deep. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever’s for?” The Doctor’s hand was lingering on his shoulders, squeezing gently. “We _are_ going to dinner, aren’t we?”

“Oh, God.” Jamie retrieved his breakfast – more for something to do with his hands than because he wanted to eat it. His nausea had returned in full force. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to eat again. Not meeting the Doctor’s gaze, he said, “look, I know I must’ve made a fool of meself, and I’m sorry, but can you not make fun of me, cause I just – I just wanted tae –”

“Who said anything about making fun?” said the Doctor. “I’m not making fun.”

He’d stopped laughing, at least. He’d stopped laughing and he looked truly puzzled. “You’re not?”

“Does this mean you’re not taking me out to dinner?” said the Doctor, his voice small and plaintive.

Jamie stared at him. “You’ve lost me.”

“I’m so sorry,” said the Doctor. “You sounded like you meant it.”

“Well, I – I did mean it, but I – what?” He sat clutching his food-tube, utterly confounded. Either the Doctor was talking nonsense, or he was saying he – was saying he –

“I, ah –” The Doctor trailed off – and gave him a look of fondest exasperation. “Oh, Jamie.” His hand slid from Jamie’s shoulder to the back of his head, stroking his hair, gentling him. “You don’t really think you’re so unlovable, do you?”

“I, erm – no, but – what’re you saying?”

The Doctor wasn’t saying anything, just looking at Jamie with his eyes shining like – like he was looking up at the stars. His hand shifted, his thumb stroking Jamie’s cheek.

Jamie tried to speak several times. He wetted his lips. He said, “oh.”

“Oh,” echoed the Doctor.

“You –”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t think properly with the Doctor giving him _that_ look, but – “ _oh_.”

All at once, it was as if a weight had been lifted from him. His crawling shame evaporated. He felt as if he could float clean off the bed, light and sunny.

“You really mean it?”

“Of course I do.” The Doctor kissed his cheek, and he dissolved into giddy laughter.

He turned his head, and the Doctor was right there, they were nose to nose. His breath tingled upon Jamie’s lips. “Jamie?”

“Hmm?”

“I love your face, too,” said the Doctor, “and I’ve very much like to take you out to dinner.”

Jamie laughed – and they were kissing. He couldn’t say who started it. He wasn’t aware of leaning in, but there he was, kissing the Doctor. After a moment the Doctor pulled back, blinking as if startled. He wetted his lips and kissed Jamie again.

It was a touch clumsy, their noses kept bumping together, but the Doctor’s mouth was so soft and so damn kissable, tugging gently at his lips, over and over. His stomach was full of butterflies and for a few seconds he clean forgot where he was and how much of a mess they were in.

Something wet dripped on his hand. “Mmfph,” he said into the Doctor’s mouth. “Mmm.” He pulled back. “You’ve made me spill me breakfast.” He turned the tube right-side up, but there was already a puddle of vanilla-scented goop on his blanket and a long streak all down his arm.

“Oh, good gracious!” cried the Doctor. “Oh dear. Oh dear.” He flustered through his pockets till he came upon a handkerchief. “I’m so sorry,” he said, dabbing at the mess.

“It’s alright,” Jamie laughed.

The Doctor took him by the wrist and wiped his arm clean. “There, now,” he said. “And we _are_ going to dinner, aren’t we?”

“Oh, aye,” said Jamie. “If we make it through this, that is,” he added darkly.

“Hush, you,” said the Doctor. “Honestly, you can be such a pessimist. I have every intention of living through this.” He scrubbed at the mess on the blanket. “Hmm,” he said, ruminating. “Have you ever been to Italy?”

“I dinnae think so.” Jamie sipped his funny liquid breakfast.

“Good.” The Doctor gave up dabbing at the blanket and tucked the soiled handkerchief away. “Now, drink your goop and get some rest.”

“I’m restin’,” said Jamie around a mouthful of military rations. “Kissin’s restful.” The Doctor gave him an exasperated look and stroked his hair. Jamie swallowed his mouthful and said, “I, erm. Didnae really mean it about gettin’ married, though.”

The Doctor laughed. “Oh, well,” he said, still stroking. “You shall have to tell Zoe she’s not going to be our flower girl after all.”

“I dinnae think she’ll mind,” said Jamie.

“Probably not,” the Doctor sighed. He patted Jamie’s arm. “Sit tight, now. You’ll be on your feet in no time.” Jamie settled back against the pillows, stomach still fizzing with happiness, and grinned at the ceiling.

*

Inevitably, of course, the Doctor was called away on important business which would probably involve sitting in a room being talked at by boring military types, leaving Zoe to sit with Jamie.

It was good she’d brought her book, for all he wanted to do was stare at the ceiling and bask in contentment.

“You seem to be in a better mood,” said Zoe, flicking through her book for her place.

“Hmm?” Jamie glanced at her. “Oh, aye. We had a good talk. We’re no’ gettin’ married but other than that everything’s fine.” He thought a moment and amended, “everything’s wonderful.”

Zoe gave him a hard look. “Not that I’m not happy for you,” she said. “But you are aware that we’re in the middle of a war?”

“Aye,” said Jamie.

“A particularly _nasty_ war?”

“Stop tryin’ to ruin this for me.” Jamie fidgeted with the edge of his pillow.

“I’m just _saying_ ,” said Zoe. “Less than a day ago you almost died.

“Aye, I’d not forgotten,” said Jamie. “And now everything’s perfect.” He closed his eyes. This was the best thing that had ever happened to him and he wasn’t about to let some messy war spoil it for him. At least not until he got out of bed.

“You – oh, whatever,” said Zoe. “Have it your way. Would you like me to read to you?”

Jamie opened his eyes and squinted at the book. “What sort of book’s that?”

“It’s a history of Arcturus,” said Zoe.

“Aye, go on,” said Jamie. “I’ll just lie here with me eyes closed.”

“You do that,” Zoe said.

Yes, everything was perfect, and he was going to cling onto this light, fluttery sensation as long as he could. And on the off chance that they didn’t all die, once they made it back to the TARDIS – well, then they’d just have to see, but whatever happened he was sure it would be wonderful.


End file.
